


Undercurrent

by autumnalbee (redherring)



Category: The Hobbit (Jackson Movies), The Hobbit - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, M/M, Unspoken Love, barrel scene
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-09
Updated: 2016-05-09
Packaged: 2018-06-02 21:47:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6583750
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redherring/pseuds/autumnalbee
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dwalin looks up. Thorin is running—well, as much as one can run in water—from the barrels to the rocks and then back in the water again, yelling Bilbo’s name. Dwalin would call the fool out on it, except Thorin looks genuinely concerned. </p><p>No, Dwalin thinks, Thorin doesn’t look concerned. He looks <i>frantic</i>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercurrent

**Author's Note:**

> I remembered [this video](http://avelera.tumblr.com/post/113078469775/nitocrisss-hobbitunderthemountain-ok-this-is) the other day. I decided to make it more painful. I'm sure someone's done something like this before, but I thought I'd add my own version to the pile.
> 
> As a result of some comments I've received, I'd like to direct everyone to the angst tag. It does not lie. A good time is not to be found here. That being said, if you're not here for a good time, then by all means, read on. :)

Dwalin’s not even out of his own barrel when Thorin starts yelling.  
  
“ _Where’s the hobbit?_ ”  
  
It takes a surprising amount of strength to stand, his clothes as water-logged as they are. Dwalin’s boots feel ten times heavier than usual, but the water is shallow enough that it only takes him a moment to get used to it.  
  
Ori, however, who is directly in Dwalin’s path to the rocks, does not manage so well. He just sits in the water, trying to drag himself toward the river bank as though he has no strength left.  
  
Dwalin takes pity on him, and tries to pull his arm up. “Stand up, lad.”  
  
“I can’t,” Ori says, but Dwalin can hardly hear him over Thorin’s screaming.  
  
“ _Bilbo!_ ”  
  
“Get up.” Dwalin tries again to get Ori to stand, and he very nearly does, but then Ori lands arse-first in the water again. Dwalin has to resort to grabbing him by the armpits and trying to pull him, but that does nothing, either.  
  
“ _Bilbo!_ ”  
  
Dwalin looks up. Thorin is running—well, as much as one can run in water—from the barrels to the rocks and then back in the water again, yelling Bilbo’s name. Dwalin would call the fool out on it, except Thorin looks genuinely concerned.  
  
No, Dwalin thinks, Thorin doesn’t look concerned. He looks _frantic_.  
  
He hears splashing, and Dori comes running over to help Ori. Dwalin lets him, and they both manage to get Ori to stand on shaky legs before he’s down in the water again.  
  
“Get _up_ , lad!” Dwalin yells, if only to be heard over Thorin’s constant screaming.  
  
Ori says nothing, and it takes a lot of time and yelling, but Dori and Dwalin manage to get Ori up on his feet and keep him up, and when they finally, _finally_ get there, Dwalin pushes him onto the rock.  
  
Now to deal with Thorin.  
  
The idiot’s still running around screaming for Bilbo, even though at first glance the rest of the company appear to all be on the rock. Some are watching Thorin, amused until they see the look in his eyes, and others just aren’t looking at him to save him the embarrassment.  
  
Ultimately, though, it’s Bofur that finds him.  
  
“Thorin? He’s—he’s over here.”  
  
Dwalin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Thorin move that quickly in water, and yet somehow he wades over to Bofur within seconds, his back to Thorin. From where Dwalin’s standing, he can only see part of a barrel.  
  
Thorin doesn’t say anything, and soon the entire company is silent.  
  
Dwalin is torn between going to his king and leaving him be, and ultimately he stays where he is. Bofur makes to scoop Bilbo up in his arms, but Thorin pushes him out the way without any real force and does it himself, pulling Bilbo out of the barrel. Bilbo’s head lolls over Thorin’s arm, and Thorin acts as though he weighs nothing at all.  
  
Bilbo’s skin is shockingly pale, his lips almost blue.  
  
Thorn manages to carry Bilbo up out of the water, but his legs look unstable once he’s on the rock. Dwalin moves forward to help, and Thorin glares at him, fury and sorrow and grief burning in his eyes.  
  
“ _Do not touch him_ ,” Thorin snarls, and Dwalin steps away, casting his gaze down at the rock under their feet.  
  
Thorin carries Bilbo further from the rocks, setting him down on a patch of grass with more gentleness than Dwalin has seen from Thorin since the princes were babes. Thorin sits next to Bilbo and stares at him, his eyes just as fiery as they had been when they looked upon Dwalin. Thorin makes no move to speak to or touch Bilbo; he merely sits and watches.  
  
Dwalin blinks, and it only takes that long. Bilbo’s hand is in Thorin’s, and Thorin’s expression is one of such utter heartbreak that Dwalin can’t help but feel he’s watching something far too intimate for anyone else’s eyes.  
  
And yet he can’t bring himself to look away, either. None of the company can, in fact; they’re all watching, and if Thorin knows, he doesn’t show it. Slowly, Thorin brings Bilbo’s hand up to his cheek, and he inhales sharply.  
  
Dwalin can’t watch it anymore. He turns, and when those around him give him a questioning look, he only glares. He will let Thorin have this moment.  
  
Dori and Ori are the first to walk away. Ori has tears in his eyes, and Dori doesn’t look like he’ll be able to hold it in much longer, either. Nori watches them go, looks Bilbo over one last time, and follows. Bombur, Bifur, Óin, and Glóin are no better, and it’s only when they’re a few steps away that Dwalin notices Bombur dabbing at his eyes with his beard.  
  
Bofur removes his hat, giving Bilbo the saddest look Dwalin thinks he’s ever seen from the dwarf, and then walks away. Balin sighs and looks downward, then pats Dwalin’s arm as he leaves, shaking his head.  
  
Fill and Kíli are the only ones left. Kíli is on the brink of tears, and Fíli has adopted the stony face he uses to try to hide whatever he’s feeling. Dwalin moves between the lads and Thorin, blocking their view, and puts a hand on Fíli’s shoulder.  
  
“Go follow them,” he says, his voice brooking no argument.  
  
Kill opens his mouth, but Fíli turns after a moment and walks away, leaving him speechless. He glances at Dwalin, then follows his brother.  
  
Once Dwalin can’t see them anymore, he hears a choked sob behind him. Bilbo’s head is in Thorin’s lap, his hand against Thorin’s lips. There are still no tears, but Thorin’s chest rises and falls unsteadily, his grip on Bilbo’s hand light and gentle, as though he’s afraid of breaking him.  
  
Dwalin looks down at his boots. Thorin’s going to be here a while, he can tell, so he sits in the grass with a grunt.  
  
He has the feeling they aren’t safe, not entirely, and Dwalin will be damned if he’s going to leave his king alone and unsuspecting.  
  
Dwalin’s not sure how long they sit there. Thorin doesn’t move, unless it’s to shift his weight, and Dwalin is, admittedly, getting a bit sick of sitting in one place himself. As the sun starts to sink, Dwalin stands and walks over to Thorin.  
  
“We need to set up camp,” he says, putting a hand on Thorin’s shoulder.  
  
Thorin looks up, as though he’d had no idea Dwalin was there, or that he’d even said a word. “Then go set up camp,” he says.  
  
“I meant away from here. We need to get moving.”  
  
“No.”  
  
“Thorin—"  
  
“ _No._ ” Thorin swallows and gasps, looking terrified for only a moment before his face is hard again. “He deserves to be buried in stone. In Erebor.”  
  
_Curse these Durins and their lovesickness_ , Dwalin thinks. “We can’t do that. We can make a burial cairn, but we need to do it now.”  
  
Thorin hesitates, then nods, only once, and Dwalin pulls him up to stand.  
  
Together, they dig. The soil is soft under their hands, and between the both of them, they manage to dig out a hobbit-sized hole just big enough for Bilbo. Thorin carefully sets Bilbo into the earth, but has to look away as Dwalin fills the hole with dirt.

When Dwalin stands again, wiping the dirt from his hands, he nudges Thorin with his elbow. "Come on, then."

They begin to gather rocks and cover the mound with them. The company watches only for a few moments, and then some join in, carrying stones of varying sizes and placing them on the foundation Thorin and Dwalin have started. By the time it’s finished, it isn’t particularly large, but just big enough for a hobbit, and the entirety of the company have gathered around.  
  
Those who are crying do not hold back their tears, and those who are not do not look toward the cairn.  
  
“Would anyone like to say any words?” Balin asks, his own beard a bit damp.  
  
There is silence, and then, one by one, each dwarf speaks. Bombur touts Bilbo’s stew recipe, Bifur makes gestures in Iglishmêk that Dwalin doesn’t quite catch, and Bofur tells a story about Bilbo and his prim propriety that has everyone chuckling sadly. Fíli and Kíli apologize for the pranks they pulled on poor Bilbo. Ori thanks Bilbo for his stories, Nori wishes he could have seen Bilbo’s burglarizing skills, and Dori says he’ll miss being able to discuss teas with someone who understands. Óin thanks Bilbo for helping him find healing herbs in the wild, and Glóin speaks of Bilbo much as he would his own son.  
  
All too soon, it is Dwalin’s turn, and he doesn’t know what to say. He wasn’t close to Bilbo, had hardly ever spoken to him, but Bilbo’s dead now and Dwalin knows he should say something.  
  
“He was braver than the lot of us,” he says simply, and he surprises even himself with his words.  
  
Thorin is last, but no one looks at him. Dwalin can see out of the corner of his eye that Thorin is not going to be able to hold himself together. Balin sees it, too, and ends things there.  
  
The company slowly walks away. Bofur rests Bilbo’s knapsack next to the cairn and holds his hat as though he’s contemplating something, but he ultimately walks away without a word.  
  
Soon, it is just Dwalin and Thorin again. Thorin makes no movement to go for a few moments, then storms off away from the rest of the company. The moment Dwalin decides to follow him, Thorin stops, pulling a bough from a tree and walking back to the cairn.  
  
Thorin stares at the branch in his hands before removing a silver bead from his hair. He places them both over where Bilbo’s chest would be.  
  
“He likes the berries,” Thorin says as an explanation, his voice almost hoarse. He doesn’t make an excuse for the bead, and Dwalin doesn’t expect him to.  
  
And then, without even needing prompting, Thorin walks away. He walks like a broken dwarf, but he walks away, and Dwalin is glad of that. He pulls something from his pocket, and holds onto it tightly. It’s an acorn, Dwalin realizes. Thorin must have taken it from Bilbo.  
  
Dwalin glances at the cairn once more with a sigh, then follows his king.

**Author's Note:**

> The branch Thorin puts on Bilbo's grave is the arbutus, which, according to the all-knowing Wikipedia, means "you are the only one I love." It makes a good wood for fuel because it burns hot for extended periods of time. Make of that what you will. I also have a headcanon that dwarves bury their dead with trinkets, but only items that the deceased themselves owned. Burying someone with someone else's things is reserved for Ones, spouses, or a parent/child.
> 
> You can find me on Tumblr at [cuddlyori](http://cuddlyori.tumblr.com).


End file.
